


Come Away with Me

by Miss_Murdered



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Girl!Duo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-17
Updated: 2014-10-17
Packaged: 2018-02-21 12:33:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2468348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Murdered/pseuds/Miss_Murdered
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Heero Yuy didn't fall in love. Not until he was asked to protect her. 1x2. AU. Girl!Duo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come Away with Me

**Author's Note:**

> Someone mentioned to me that I haven't posted 1x2 for a while and this has been sat on my hard drive for soooo long. This was a one-shot that became a multipart and then went back to being a one-shot. I have four other chapters written but I don't think I have the stamina to complete so it will probably remain a one-shot.
> 
> And I always wanted to attempt girl!Duo and retain "my" Duo. Let's see if I did...

He was running the remaining blocks, snow in the gutter, his suit jacket loose in his hand as he finally arrived at the temporary gallery - a warehouse on the edge of the city - an "edgy" location for an "edgy" up and coming photographer and an "edgy" introduction to a new collection of photographs.

Heero Yuy wasn't part of that crowd - the crowd who belonged at the party so when he arrived at the doorway and saw the two heavies with tablets they looked ready to send him on his way. Instead of them rebuffing him, he slid out his ID and confirmed his name. They briefly checked his ID against their information before they nodded him in and Heero gave them a little incline of his head in thanks but nothing more as he could see them ready to discuss who he was and why he was attending.

As he walked in, he slid his jacket over his rumpled white shirt, his tie askew after a day protecting a pop star but it was easy money - money he had in cash in the inner lining of his jacket, feeling for it as he walked into the space that had been turned into a gallery.

The space was large, old industrial pipes exposed and the floor, though polished and cleaned, still showed where large machinery had once worked and he could see stains underfoot. He took in the space critically, like the ex-soldier, like the security man he was now, and observed the people drinking champagne from black flutes, canapés delivered by "gothic" dressed wait staff and he glanced briefly as the stark white lighting installed for the event and then the photographs themselves.

Of course, he'd seen them before - travelled with her around the world, her security as she took the images the world didn't want to see - the child soldier, the dying kids, the squalid conditions - "Dying to Live" - was the title of the exhibition and while the images were horrifying, stark, in black and white, the room itself was a vision of wealthy men and women which seemed in bad taste.

It made something in the pit of Heero's stomach turn but then he saw her, saw her just as disgusted by the event and by the arm around her. He grabbed a passing waitress and collected a glass of champagne and walked towards an image. He watched her as she looked uncomfortable talking to the rich men around her and she met his eye, holding it for a second, before she returned her glance to the tall man in a blue pinstripe suit, hair slicked back, who had that possessive arm around her.

Heero didn't need to say his opinion on Treize Khushrenada - businessman, philanthropist, arts patron as he was known publically or murderer, criminal and black mailer as he was known privately but he hated him with a fire he had not felt for anyone else. And that was before her.

He stood at one photograph, the real image of the child in his head, in South Sudan, and the girl was hollowed eyed and hungry. And Heero remembered after that village, after that little girl, after those cramped and horrible conditions, he had woken up with her hovering over him as he slept on the couch of their hotel room and she had asked him to make her forget. And despite the knowledge that Khushrenada could have him killed, that he had been employed to protect her, he found her above him, riding him, her loosely braided hair trailing down her over breasts, her eyes closed, and her soft lips opened in pleasure. Since then he'd been fucked.

As he looked at the photograph, as he swirled champagne around his glass, she finally had managed to extricate herself from Khushrenada's arm and was approaching him and he could finally look at her how he wanted - not daring to meet Khushrenada's eye as he undressed her with his eyes.

The day he had met her, she thought she was going to be a man - the name Duo Maxwell being more masculine than feminine but she had appeared, a skinny jean, a tight tank, leather jacket and boots with a large heel. She had laughed at him when he admitted he expected a man, telling him nothing about her name, and reprimanded him for his narrow minded views with a little smirk on ruby red lips and a wink.

Now she walked towards him with her hips swaying, her heels exaggerating each step as she wore a tight black pencil skirt, her red blouse tucked into it, the buttons undone enough to show a column of pale throat and lead his eyes down to her breasts. It was probably a demure outfit choice, something that Khushrenada approved of but on her, Heero could only swallow as it looked sinful. Or maybe it was because he knew what was underneath as she finally reached him.

"I didn't think you'd come."

"I had a big job," he said, his eyes drinking in her – it wasn't just her body, that combination of smooth and soft, the way she felt against his skin – it was her eyes, the brightest damn blue, her heart shaped face, the way she smiled, how her face was always so full of expression - that had made him fall for her, stupidly, but fuck if he could help it. "I wouldn't have missed this for anything."

He reached out his hand to her shoulder and she flinched, pushing the hand away for a second and her eyes darting towards the man who was currently talking to a man with platinum blond hair, their heads close.

"You can't, damn it, 'Ro," she hissed and Heero couldn't help the way his stomach jumped at the nickname she'd given him.

He leaned in subtlety, keeping his eyes on the man he so hated, the man that had something on the woman next to him. His hand reached for one of the long bangs that framed her face and her eyes blazed as she turned towards him, defiant, as she was used to being pushed around by men and she had asserted her control with him from that first desperate fuck. And maybe Heero knew she called all the shots as everything was on her terms, every moment, yet he capitulated to her, intoxicated by everything about her, and it wasn't love, no Heero Yuy didn't fall in love, but it was intense and addictive and he craved her every night she slept in the bed of a penthouse next to a man who didn't deserve her.

"I want you," he whispered, his mouth close to her ear. "He's not watching… I want to fuck you like he doesn't."

She shivered at Heero's words and he couldn't help the satisfaction of seeing that, seeing her body respond to his words, and she glanced towards Khushrenada before turning her gaze back to Heero.

"Meet me," she said, "five minutes – upstairs. There's an old office."

Duo reached for his hand, where she touched it felt warm, on fire even and he wanted her now but Heero nodded, the lump in his throat making it impossible to speak. She walked away with a sway in her step and approached Treize, touching him gently in a way that made Heero's blood boil before she looked once back over her shoulder, her eyes hot. She then proceeded towards the staircase, the staircase that Heero had barely taken in on his first glance and her pace was slow on those large heels, the braid touching her ass just so as she walked and it was if she knew how Heero watched her. She was always so damn knowing.

He waited, looking at the art, each piece larger than life and he remembered Duo, her large eyes taking it all in and hating to see those kids like that, those nights that they burned away the images together, and he felt sweat trickle down the back of his collared white shirt as he remembered her. All the ways they had enjoyed each other's bodies and he felt powerless, time stretching inordinately, five minutes seeming impossible to wait but nonetheless he did. He did as she asked that, he did as she wanted caution, he did as Heero knew she risked so much with him. And he never wanted her hurt, never wanted her dead because he couldn't keep his hands off her.

Time trickled but five minutes passed and he discarded his champagne flute. His anticipation rose, his palms oddly sweaty – she made him feel like a teenager at times but it was far more complicated than that – Duo was more complicated than some teenage crush. He walked quickly, his eyes darting for Khushrenada but he was no longer anywhere in the gallery and he wondered if that was planned – maybe she had encouraged him to speak about a business deal somewhere more private but whatever, Heero did not care, only followed her path up the stairs, searching for her, almost smelling the ghost of her perfume as he did.

It wasn't difficult to find the office, the door ajar, the lingering scent guiding him, walking through the door and shutting it behind him, the motes of dust catching in his throat as he turned towards her, sat on a desk covered by a white sheet, approaching him then oh so slowly, each step torturous to his already heightened senses. The moment she touched him, Heero knew he would be lost to her, as he had been that first time and all those years of survival, of moving on when he needed, of taking on temporary jobs to protect himself had been fucked over by her – by her touch, those fingers tips that reached to his face.

"Don't think, baby," she said, her hand on his cheek, and Heero couldn't help all the thoughts swirling around his head – those thoughts of taking her away, of them being a thousand miles from Khushrenada, out of his reach, able then to have more than stolen moments. Those moments when she called him in the middle of the night, telling him to meet her at some hotel, him checking in under some bullshit name so that they could fuck. Or a moment like this - risking it all for a quick fuck in a dusty old office and Heero couldn't deny her – the way her hand felt across his cheek, the way her eyes looked in the darkness of the office, the way everything about her was alive and fuck, if he hadn't felt that for damn years.

Heero leaned down to her, kissing her, tasting some damn lip gloss that felt so artificial as the Duo he'd had – that was  _his_ Duo - wasn't this version.  _His_  Duo was the woman who straddled him wearing only his shirt, who bit and nipped at his skin, who he watched through half lidded eyes as she used him, hell, sometimes he was sure she was using him – and tonight, she wasn't  _his._ She was that artificial version – dressed like she was to become a famous photographer, to be pawed at by those rich and idle idiots. Tonight she was that bastard's version and he wanted to strip her out of that outfit. Have her covered in sweat and scars and tasting of cheap liquor. And he wouldn't get her like that now. It was impossible. Too brief. Too forbidden. Too wrong.

His tongue slid over hers, one hand in that hair, that braid, one hand travelling down the satin of her blouse to the tight pencil skirt, running further to thigh, wanting to push it up.

The tactile feeling of the fabrics, her body close up to his was too damn arousing, she always made him hard quickly, the way she felt, the way she moulded to him, the way her tongue was just as demanding as his, her hands gripping his ass tightly so that she could grind into his dick. It all made him want her now as he needed her in a way he had never needed anyone else.

Her hand stopped his hand - the one that was trying to push up the skirt and she pushed away from his chest, pulling away from his lips with a little nip and she reached for the side zip, pulling the teeth apart and dropping the item to the floor, looking up at him through her long eyelashes – a look that was mocking coyness. She was anything but coy as she stood black lace panties, heels, a red blouse that she undid to reveal the matching bra, before walking to the desk, removing the white sheet this time with a quick flourish and positioning herself on the edge.

"What're you waiting for, 'Ro?"

He'd been waiting for his brain to catch up, for his body to move towards her – her words jolted him and he walked to between her spread legs, running his fingers her throat, down her collarbone, to her breasts that he touched to hear her breath hitch, running down her stomach, the feel of soft skin and toned muscles, to the lace of her panties, touching then at the apex of her legs through the material.

Heero rubbed lightly, feeling the wetness through the material as his mouth latched onto her throat, his tongue licking at her pulse, his teeth worrying at her skin – he wanted to bite down, mark her, but instead, he continued moving his fingers.

"You want me," he said against her skin and she did nothing but moan, as he bypassed material, the panties sliding down her enough for him to reach his fingers inside, to touch, to feel the slickness and then bring it up to his lips, tasting her.

Her eyes were glazed as she watched him. "Fuck me, baby, I want you…"

He knew they had little time but he couldn't help the desire to have her shake underneath him, come undone due to his mouth and fingers and tongue before he'd plunge his cock into her, fuck her like only he could, like she wanted him to.

Heero gave her a look that he reserved for her – a smirk that she saw as he manoeuvred her to remove those panties, before lowering his head, licking then, her fingers sliding into his hair to keep him in place – not that he would deny her. Not that he wouldn't lick, use his lips, use his fingers too, spreading around the wetness, hearing the sharp intake of breath as he did all those things to her. He knew no one else had done this for her like  _this_  as she wrapped one leg around his body, the heel of her shoe digging into his back as he tasted her, as he brought her to that point of orgasm, knowing he had as she was damn expressive when he fucked her, when he went down on her, when he slid his fingers inside her.

Knowing they had little time and leaving her shuddering, he let his lips mark a path upwards to her mouth, stopping only to nip at her breasts through the material before returning to her lips, moist and parted, her fingers were quickly at his belt, undoing zip, fly, bringing out his cock, aching for her and it was Heero's turn to groan as her skilled fingers stroked him. He closed his eyes, lost himself to her hand and her lips, the taste of her on his tongue.

Heero could forget then, forget for a moment, that they were in an office of an old abandoned factory, that she was someone else's damn girlfriend and that what they were doing could end with them both dead, but she was worth it. Worth it as she delved into his back pocket for his wallet, their lips parting, her eyes heavy lidded as she brought out a condom before throwing the bi-fold onto the floor, breaking open the packet and needing no invitation to slide it onto Heero's dick. He panted as she touched him, afraid that he wouldn't last long enough for her but she arched her back, wrapped her legs around him, as he pushed into her, the slick slide into her quick and enough for Heero to lose what little was left of his mind.

He reached for her, holding her tight to his body as he thrust his hips forward and backwards, creating a rhythm that she wanted, clearly, as she rocked her hips into him, softly moaned, ran her fingers up his back, bunching at his jacket.

"He doesn't make you feel like this," he said into her ear, panting it out, but wanting her to damn hear it.

"Only you, baby," she said, her mouth biting into his skin, her fingers pulling at his hair.

No, Heero knew he didn't, knew he didn't make her feel like he did as she groaned and panted out her breaths, as he slid his hand between them as he continued his hip movements, in and out of her, feeling her warmth, her body pulling him in, his instincts driving him into her, colliding into her hips and wanting every inch of her against him.

"Heero…" she gasped out, her fingers tightening and he thrust harder, his eyes tightly shut in concentration as she shuddered around him, her body finding its own high as he plunged deeper, sliding out again, to repeat the motion, drawing out her orgasm as he came, the sparks of white release making him grunt as she caressed his sweaty neck, touched his hair.

"Come away with me," Heero pleaded, his body still tingling, his dick softening inside her.

He touched her cheek, saw her eyes look downcast and he knew she'd say no, like she always damn did, too fucking stubborn or too fucking scared or she still thought she owed  _him_ too fucking much but he couldn't help hope that this time, she would say yes.

"Heero…" she said, drawing out his name and he took that as his opportunity to leave her, slide out, remove the condom, straighten his shirt, his jacket. She was scrambling for clothes, that skirt, her panties and he watched her despite the fact he wanted to be angry. Wanted to hate her – wanted not to feel his heart beating too fast in his chest.

"You  _knew,_ fuck it, you knew that this wasn't anything.  _He_  hired you and he hired you because you're a fucked up ex-war vet." Duo was zipping up that skirt as she said it, fastening the buttons of her blouse, and he stopped that with his hands, his hips, pushing her towards the desk again. She glared up at him, unafraid of his actions, as she would not be pushed around by him, defiant blue eyes looking into his. "I don't need you to save me."

"I'm not trying to save you," he growled in response, running his fingers up her throat, "I'm trying to offer you a choice. You can't owe him that damn much."

"You don't know anything, Heero," she spat.

"I don't," he said, his hand at her cheek, his calloused thumb against her skin, and he stepped back, breathing her in one last time, trying to rationalise that it would be. He let his hand slide along the smooth surface of her cheek before his arm dropped. "I won't ask you again."

He didn't lean forward, didn't press their lips together, only walked away, not looking back until he was out of the room, smelling the scent of his perfume on his shirt, her taste still lingering on his lips, still feeling as though her fingers were wound in his hair, her breath across his face. He left the party, spotting Treize as he did, walking the length of the room feeling for the money in his jacket, and thinking, angrily, if she gave him the chance he could get her away – make her safe but knowing she wouldn't accept. Stubborn. She'd told him that, lying naked together in some sub-Saharan wasteland, that she was stubborn, that she had come from the streets and fought and clawed for her chance, and shit, if she'd risk everything for some guy however good in the sack he was.

Heero just hadn't cared then. He did now.

"Come away with me," he whispered it bitterly as he arrived at his car, feeling his fingers tremble on the steering wheel once he was sitting inside. He felt pathetic as he sat in the cold of the car, that she, unlike so many damn women, had got under his skin as she wasn't easy. She was complicated, she pushed him, she challenged him, she was a mind fuck and he loved her for every last second of it.

And that was the problem, the "love" word and he punched at the wheel, ready to start up the vehicle when he heard the knock at the window. He turned, expecting the cheap goons to request him to leave but instead it was her, and he fumbled a second for the window control, lowering it so she could speak.

"You mean it?"

Heero nodded, his throat raw.

"I mean, you can take me away from him?"

"Yeah," he said, the words low and she opened the door and he realised she was dressed only in the skirt and blouse, shivering from the cold. He removed his jacket, offering it to her and she accepted it, for one, accepting his help.

He started the car, put the heat on for her, and drove from the warehouse district. Duo was silent, shivering a little in the cold of the car and Heero reached over, smoothing his hand over her skirt, her thigh, and she didn't resist it.

"Where are we going?"

"South America maybe, somewhere warm… you liked the heat."

Heero glanced at her, Duo's face still, stoic, as though she was trying to contain emotions. It wasn't her and he wanted to make her feel better but all he could do was touch her, reaching from thigh to shoulder, wrapping her in an arm as he drove one handed.

"He won't find us."

She met his eye dead on. "You sure?"

He turned from the road for one moment to meet her lips, the gentle press making the lie that spilled from his mouth less harsh on the tongue. "Yeah."

And he wasn't sure, never knew what Treize had on her, that maybe he'd find them both and kill them violently, but all Heero did was turn back to the road, his hand loosely around her shoulder, letting her fall asleep beside him, planning then how they'd get away and hoping that they wouldn't be found.

 


End file.
